Hiruma, Mamori, and Christmas
by TFRiD Queen
Summary: 2 separate HiruMamo drabbles, written for a DA advent event in 2013 and 2014. Every Christmas, Hiruma and Mamori attempt to celebrate it...with interesting results. Whether it's meeting the family or trying eggnog, one cannot expect the Devil to just go along with tradition, right? Language, because Hiruma.
1. Family

**A/N: This is an older story, when I was still a bit interested in E21, but I decided to repost here since it is a stand-alone one shot. Originally written for a HiruMamo advent event over on Deviantart; my theme was "family". Features a bit of crossover with Nobunagun, but since they're mostly making cameos and it's not necessary for readers to have watched the series, I'm going to stick this in the E21 category and not as a crossover. (Also, nobody checks out the crossover section so...)**

 **P.S. Kudos to Honey-Bee89 for beta-ing and hosting this Advent Calendar that I wrote this for.**

* * *

The first time Mamori had asked their devil-leader-quarterback about his parents, she'd gotten nothing more out of him than the iciest glare he'd ever bestowed upon her, followed immediately by curse words which were spat at an equal ferocity to the hail of bullets he fired towards her (each one deflected by her well-worn clipboard, of course).

"Don't ask that again, Fuckin' Manager," was all he said before storming out of the clubroom and continuing his reign of terror amongst his hapless teammates. At the time, Mamori was – well, pretty angry. It was just an innocent question, after all, and after all of this time, with all of the trust they had built between them, surely she had earned some sort of privilege to question him on such matters?

But looking back, perhaps there had been a reason why he didn't like to talk about his parents. Maybe they weren't on good terms; maybe they were divorced; or maybe he didn't have any at all…

Throughout the week, she paced and fretted around the field while Suzu-chan tried her best to reassure her that 'You-nii' was just being his usual anti-social self. The supportive cheerleader didn't realize that her words only succeeded in making her feel more and more guilty. So later that day, when she spotted Hiruma coming out of the locker room after practice (he was last one out, just as was she), she decided then and there to sit him down and talk things over with him – whether he wanted to or not. But just as she opened her mouth to say something, a small envelop was being thrust in her direction.

"H-Hiruma-kun? What is this?" She looked closely at the fancy scrolls and gilt-leaf text, "...An invitation… to a winter ball?!"

"Tch. Fuckin' Manager. You wanted to know about my family, right?"

"W-Well, yes, but I-"

"-Dress code is black-tie, be ready by seventeen-hundred hours – and you'd better not be fucking late when I come by."

The Devil Bat's manager couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her lips as the lanky quarterback walked out the door with nary a glance back. He may be the devil incarnate himself, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of being nice. In his own, unique, twisted kind of way.

"What's wrong? Do you think my dress is all right?" Mamori wasn't quite sure how to decipher the blond's expression when she opened the car door: though she must admit, the deadpan poker-face looked quite attractive when coupled with a nice suit. He looked like he just walked off an Armani ad! "I, uh, didn't really have time to go shopping since your invitation was so sudden, so I thought the dress I wore at Vegas would-"

"-Good enough. Get in – I don't wanna be late." His words were short and to the point, and while she was used to his curt replies, there seemed to be an edge to them now. Was he mad? Did he not want to go to this ball? Was he only taking her because of her nosy question about his family? These questions ate away at her mind for what seemed like hours.

"H-Hiruma-kun, you know... you don't have to take me just for my sake. I mean... I know your family is a very... personal issue. So, if you don't want to go, don't force it..."

The car screeched to a stop in front of a very fancy gated mansion on top of a hill. "Fuck, could they get any more cliché..." he muttered while handing the keys over to a waiting valet. "Come on, looks like they've already started..."

"Wait, Hiruma-kun, didn't you-." She gasped as he suddenly pulled her towards him, and when she looked up at his face, his mouth split open to reveal his pointy fangs.

"Really, did you think I was just taking you for your sake?"

The mansion was certainly impressive: decked to the nines in all the right, tasteful holiday decorations; though Mamori felt that the 24-karet gold serving trays were just a tad _too_ much – even for the holidays. Besides that, however, it all looked very nice. She wished she had the foresight to borrow Suzuna's camera… but then again, as Suzuna's camera was more like a computer than a simple point-and-click camera, perhaps it was best to just try and remember it as best she could and describe it all to Sena tomorrow. Good thing her memory was a lot better than her luck with fancy gadgets (though her luck with technology was far greater than Shin's. At least she hasn't broken anything… yet).

She didn't recognize anybody here, but they all seemed to be having a good time, wining and dining and taking advantage of the massive dance floor being supplemented with a live orchestra.

"So, Hiruma-kun... uh, whose party is this, anyway? One of your relatives?" She snagged a glass of sparkling cider from a passing waiter's tray, attempting to look like she at least had some level of grace, unlike her blond partner, who merely rolled his eyes before downing a cup of black coffee… wait, she hadn't seen any coffee trays! Where did he get that?

"It's not anyone you really need to know about. Some distant relation I never really bothered gettin' to know beyond what dirt they've got," he waved that little black book in her face, "they're harmless – mostly. But since you're so interested in knowing what they're like, just go ahead and check them out for yourself. Everyone here's related some way or another."

" _Everyone?_ "

"Yeah. Got a problem, _Kuso_ Manager?"

She frowned. "Hiruma-kun, I know that's your little habit, but could you please refrain from calling me that in public? "

"Heh; I wouldn't get yer hopes up, Miss..." A new voice sliced through the air, a deeper timbre than Hiruma's. His Japanese was impeccable, but tinted with a slight accent she couldn't quite place. "So, I guess the devil himself decided t' show up after all..."

"Fuckin' Ripper."

"Hello, Hiruma. Charming as always, I see."

The owner of the voice belonged to this "Ripper" man, who looked like some elfin forest creature from those fantasy books she sometimes liked to read. Taller than even Hiruma, but well-built, and with a head full of shocking, pure white hair that covered his left eye. The other eye, the one that was visible, had that vibrant shade of intense green she has only seen on one other person. And that person was currently staring right back at the new arrival.

"Th' name's Adam. Adam Muirhead." He shook her hand briefly. "Don't tell me yeh actually brought a date. So, what'd he threaten you with, Miss?"

"Mamori. I'm Mamori Anezaki. And, actually, Hiruma-kun didn't... blackmail me or anything. I'm just the manager for our school's American football team, and he's the captain, so-"

A single white brow raised in disbelief. "Really? Well, yeh might just prove everyone wrong yet, demon."

"Says the virgin who didn't even tell his girlfriend about that concealed knife you're carrying in your inner left jacket pocket." Of course Hiruma would never miss a beat to take advantage of whatever dirty little secret he had on everyone. Even his own relatives.

"Oy! Watch yer tongue, lest I cut it out the next time we meet..."

"A-ano, Adam-san? Who is... this?" All heads turned to the petite brunette who approached them, looking very much uncomfortable in her formalwear. Mamori could tell right away that this girl must be Adam's girlfriend.

"Oh. Uh, Hiruma. Yoichi Hiruma; an' this is Sio Ogura. I think he's my cousin... or somethin' like that."

"Technically, I'm your mother's cousin's brother-in-law's great-great-great Aunt's youngest nephew's brother by their second marriage but once-removed after she drowned her husband and then attempted to kill herself and is currently in an asylum. But sure, cousins, right?"

The two could only blink at him as Mamori giggled slightly. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid he's always like this. Don't worry, though, he's really not as bad as he seems." She offered the smaller girl a kind smile; the poor thing seemed rather shy at all of the attention. "I'm Anezaki Mamori. You can just call me Mamori-san, though, Ogura-san."

"O-Oh...okay..." She nodded shyly before attempting to hide herself behind the taller man again.

Hiruma, meanwhile, was busy creating and popping bubbles (seriously, where did he keep getting the gum? She didn't even hear him unwrap it!). He then snatched a glass from one of the trays. "Gotta say, you sure know how to choose them, Fuckin' Ripper. No tits, not much of an ass... but I'll give you points for the legs."

The poor girl turned about five shades of red while the taller man looked like he was about decapitate Hiruma with nothing more than his glare. "Watch yer mouth, Hiruma... yeh know I won't hold back any more than you would..."

"HIRUMA! For goodness sake, behave!" She gave his ear a hard jerk, which earned her a glare as scary as the one coming from Adam to Hiruma. "I'm serious! If you really don't want to be here, then just say so! Don't go around tormenting your poor relations just to make a point!" To her surprise, the other man gave a low chuckle.

"Don't trouble yourself, Miss Anezaki. I think outta everyone, we're probably two that get along the best. Or at least, are on the same wavelength. Anyway, surprised t' see you here, so at least try and an' enjoy yourself, maybe?" He gave Ogura-san a small pat on the head, which was obviously a signal of some sort, for she startled, bowed and stuttered about how nice it was to meet them, before scurrying back to the taller man's side.

"Well, good to see your relations have better manners than you, Hiruma-kun." He only glanced at her once, clearly still smarting over his ear. "They were actually pretty sweet; especially Ogura-san, the poor girl..."

"What, don't tell me you'd rather have me be all mushy and all that stupid lovey-dovey shit – can you believe the guy's still a fuckin' virgin?"

She pouted those full lips and she could tell he felt a little sorry – or at least: a little more subdued. "Now, now, Hiruma-kun. You know as well as I do that I didn't start going out with you for your gentlemanly qualities." She tapped his nose and he growled. "You are Yoichi Hiruma, the devil's control tower, quarterback and leader of the Deimon Devil Bats and-" her words were cut off by a sudden, deep kiss. They were barely aware of being in full-view of anyone who walked by.

"Damn straight, Fuckin' Manager." He licked his lips and the tips of his fangs showed just slightly through that smirk.

Mamori couldn't help but feel very warm inside. Perhaps Hiruma shared some of his cousin's qualities just a little bit, after all.


	2. Eggnog

**A/N: This drabble is even older, from the 2013 HiruMamo Advent event; it's not related to the previous drabble before this, but since they're both so short and I don't write E21 anymore, I thought it would be easier to consolidate it into one "story". It is a little suggestive because well, it's Hiruma, and also because I always skirt that line in my writings. Sometimes. Thanks to honey-bee89 for hosting and beta-ing.**

 **I just realized this is my second piece that involves food as a major plot point. Also I have tried and sadly am not fond of eggnog either.**

* * *

 _"No."_

"You haven't even tried it yet, how do you know—"

"I already hate your fucking sweet-ass cream puffs, what makes you think I'm going to drink this raw, vile—"

"—it's not vile, it's a nice American tradition!" Or was it British? Mamori couldn't exactly remember the origins of this sweet, creamy holiday treat, but she was pretty sure it wasn't vile. Or raw. Or okay, not fully raw. She made her best pouty face, which would've instantly brought any member of the Deimon Devil Bats to their knees; at least, everyone except the demonic quarterback/team captain/her boyfriend, Youichi Hiruma. And this time did not seem to be any different.

"Feh. Stop giving me that look, I'm not tasting it." Hiruma crossed his arms defiantly and pointedly avoided looking at her face. Not that he'd ever admit it (lest she abuse those eyes and lips more than she already unknowingly was), but it was taking ever fiber of self-control to turn her down with a straight face. Sometimes he wondered if she was really aware of the amount of power she held over people, especially men. Despite her straight-laced morals and perfect academic record, she was also the only person who'd ever had the guts to stand up to him, not to mention match his razor-sharp wit. Making her the manager of the Devil Bats had been a no-brainer; making her his, uh, girlfriend however, was a little harder than he'd imagined. Or rather, it had been the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, but now, even with the fucking manager attempting to shove a spoonful of some sickly-sweet liquid into his mouth, it was also the most rewarding.

Mamori sighed and put the spoon back into the bowl. So much for being open to trying new holiday traditions. Truthfully, she didn't remember much about eggnog at all, except for the rare instances she visited her relatives in America during Christmas. All she remembered was that it was made of eggs and milk, and usually contained some sort of alcohol. As Christmas was not celebrated on the same level as it was in America, she never had the chance to try it in Japan, but this year she was determined to go all out and try different things. After all, this would be the first year she would be celebrating it with someone special.

And she was going to make him taste it, no matter what.

Huh. Fucking manager had gone awfully silent. Hiruma wasn't sure if he should be worried; on one hand she could simply be sulking at his unwillingness to indulge her, on the other she may just be planning on some diabolical way to get back at him. Especially after the gift-wrapping fiasco—well, at least it was a fiasco to her—but hey, at least the presents got wrapped...eventually...as in, after he finally stopped ravishing her long enough to untie the ribbons. He highly suspected that being around him so much had caused her to pick up some of his less-than-savory habits; and while they were formidable when he used them, it would be an entirely different story if she managed to master them as well. He quickly decided to leave the kitchen before she could corner him in some manner.

"Ah, where are you going Hiruma?" Mamori raised a dainty eyebrow at his hasty departure. Surely he couldn't be on to her that quick...actually scratch that, knowing Hiruma he was probably already planning some sort of counter-measure. Well, that was okay, it'd just meant that she'd have to execute plan B instead of plan A. It was a pity, really, that plan A wasn't going to work, because it would've been over much quicker and simpler... "I thought you were going to help me do the dishes?"

"You're not even done making that disgusting concoction, what's the point in doing the fucking dishes now?" Shit. She was good, he'd give her that much. There was a reason he'd fallen for her, after all. "Besides, you wanted those fucking lights up, might as well get it over with while it's still light out," he hastily grabbed his jacket and the nearest string of lights before she could find something else to get him with.

Well, at least the lights were getting put up on time. The angelic manager gave her homemade eggnog a quick taste-test. Hmm, not bad...personally she could use just a tad more sugar, but that'd probably send Hiruma into a diabetic shock. Struggling to open the bottle of rum she'd purchased just for this purpose, Mamori just managed to pry the cap off when the bottle slipped, sending a wave of liquor into the bowl. Oops. It was too late to try and pour out the excess liquid, so she mixed it thoroughly and hoped for the best. Vaguely she wondered which was worse: too much sugar, or too much alcohol? She gave another sip. _'Wow, it's actually...pretty good,'_ she took another taste, just to make sure. _'Okay, the rum definitely makes this. Good thing I decided to get the nice stuff, and not the cheap one.'_ Mamori hummed lightly as she poured the entire mixture into a pretty glass pitcher and set it in the fridge to chill. Now there was just the matter of getting Hiruma to taste it...

"Wow, these look wonderful Hiruma!" The blonde devil's head whipped around at the sound of that angelic voice. He hopped off the ladder effortlessly, hoping to act casual enough as to not bring up her suspicion of his sudden exit.

"Sure, whatever you say. I don't see the point of putting these up for what, two days at most?" Hiruma personally though that Christmas lights were about the stupidest things that mankind could've invented for holiday decorations, but if Mamori wanted their apartment to look a little more festive, then more festive it was. At least he'd managed to convince her to use regular white lights instead of those hideous green-and-red matching strands that could be synched to run in different patterns. Fucking ridiculous, if you asked him.

Her lower lip trembled a bit and she lowered her head just slightly but kept her eyes on him. " _Hi-ru-ma_ , I thought we went over this, it'd be nice to keep them up until January." Ah fuck, again with those enormous pools of deep blue and those lips...he barely suppressed a shudder and power-walked to put away the ladder before he ended up putting her against the—

Mamori noted with great amusement at his walking speed. Well, more like running speed. So, not even the great Control Tower, the devilish Youichi Hiruma was completely resistant to the feminine wiles of his girlfriend. He was pretty damn good though, as far she was concerned, but Mamori liked to think she was just as wily as he was in getting what she wanted. After all, she did learn from the best. In ideal circumstances she would've preferred to not have to rely on her charms more than once, but the first test-run in the kitchen hadn't produced concrete enough evidence (as if he could hide that reaction from her!) This encounter would make it the second time he'd abruptly ended their conversation and slipped away in a flustered manner; hopefully he wouldn't gain immunity before she had a chance to actually use it.

When she returned to the warmth of the kitchen, she found a pile of already-clean dishes stacked neatly in the drying rack, and the devil sitting at the table with his laptop and a cup of coffee. Awww. How sweet. She knew Hiruma would probably jump off a cliff first rather than admit that he liked doing menial, domestic things just to make her happy, but it still made her feel warm and rather mushy every single time it happened. Silently she refilled his half-empty cup and then, on second thought, poured herself a mug as well, albeit with plenty of cream and sugar.

"Hn. You realize you're defeating the purpose of drinking coffee by covering it up with that sugary shit, right?" Hiruma's eyes never left the screen and his finger hadn't stopped moving across the keyboard, but he twitched just slightly as she sat right next to him. Mamori simply smiled and brushed her hair back as if she hadn't heard the swear words at all.

"Each to his own, right? It's not like I'm making you drink it with milk and sugar," Hiruma's fingers faltered just slightly at this comment, "I just like it to be less bitter."

"Whatever, fucking manager." They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, until Mamori finished her cup. At first Hiruma thought she was going to wash the cup, but then he heard the sound of the refrigerator being opened and that cursed glass pitcher came out. Steeling himself, he straightened his laptop screen and focused with a laser-like intensity on the screen. A soft clink let him know that there was now a glass in front of him.

"Hiruma."

 _"What."_

" _Youichi_ Hiruma."

"Yes, _Mamori_ Anezaki?"

"..."

"..."

The silence was starting to become unbearable but neither side was giving in yet.

"...Oh come on, I went through all the trouble of making it just so we could try something that I remember cherishing—"

"—s'not like I was making you, fucking manager—"

"—please, Hiruma—"

"—nope—"

"—Youichi _please_ ," and she stretched out that whine, almost a whimper, and Hiruma could've sworn it suddenly got ten degrees hotter in the room. _Shitshitshit_.

"I already told you," he finally dared to look over the top of his screen, "that I. Do. Not. Fucking. Like. Sweets." Each word was emphasized more and more until their noses were practically touching. He could smell her flowery shampoo and that lotion she used, along with the faintest hints of the bitter coffee she'd been drinking earlier. Every molecule in his body seemed to be vibrating but he pushed those feelings down. The Mexican standoff seemed to stretch forever, until they both backed off at the same time, Hiruma hunching behind the computer again and Mamori seemingly resigned to drinking the eggnog by herself. That had been too close a call for comfort; he wondered vaguely if he was going to be able to sleep by himself tonight at this rate.

"...Hiruma."

He almost let out a sigh but held it back. She was already defeated in her eggnog mission, no need to rub it in and probably spoil his chances of having some more fun tonight. "Yes?" He answered in the most neutral voice he could come up with.

"...wanna kiss..."

"Wha—?" Hiruma actually closed the lid on his laptop, just the make sure he heard correctly. Mamori was looking down in her lap and the sulky mumbling was not helping.

"...I said, if you're not going to drink my eggnog, then I want a kiss."

Some strange mixture of smug pride and fuzzy, 'aww-she's-so-cute-when-she-pouts' warmth was spreading with rapid speed through his body. He supposed he should probably make it up to her considering how excited she had been about the prospect of making the damn thing. Normally, he'd kill anyone who'd witnessed this softer, rarer side of him that he never showed, but it was just him and Mamori.

"...Okay." Hiruma pulled Mamori snugly into his lap, and without any warning, she suddenly shoved her mouth against his with an unknown ferocity. His first thought was that she really wanted something, but a split second later it all registered as a nauseating sweetness penetrated his mouth and he jerked back, spitting it out onto the nearest napkin while Mamori tried to hide her grin.

"So? Tell me, what'd you think?" She watched as he intently wiped his mouth several times, all the while glaring at her.

"Fucking manager, what the fucking fuck—I _knew_ you were up to something—" Hiruma could be very intimidating in certain situations, but watching him react with such horror to something like eggnog—well, that was just priceless.

 _"And?"_ Mamori bore a very scary resemblance to the persona she'd put on for Deimon Field Day. Hiruma wondered briefly if that _had_ been an act.

"...It's still shit. Like I already said." The girlfriend simply smiled and wiped a spot on his nose that he'd missed.

"Well, that's too bad. I guess I'll give some to Sena when he visits! Ooh, or maybe Kurita!" Glowering, the devil returned to his work noticeably muted, definitely not liking being tricked. Mamori sauntered into the kitchen with an empty glass. "Just remember, you were the one who insisted on helping me wrap presents in the first place."

Hiruma's fingers slammed the keyboard. _God-fucking-dammit._


End file.
